Page 24 of Missiletoe
Her smile dimmed, but she still nodded in understanding. “I’ve never dropped a pet under my care, and I never will.” She touched my arm as if to make sure I believed her sincerity.
I let go of my serious face and went back to the expression I was more comfortable with.
Someone once told me I had something called resting stupid face, but I knew what they really meant was that their heart didn’t know how to deal with kindness, so I made sure to give them careful handling until their pointy edges dulled down. Once that happened, they never called me stupid again.
That’s why I try not to let mean comments get to me. Calling someone mean names means that the name caller has a broken heart. Unless they are truly awful inside, genuine kindness can go a long way toward helping to heal a person’s broken bits. But if they get consumed by their hate and broken pieces, I let them know they need to move on from my life.
I like to believe that if they weren’t broken and were in full control of their mind and heart, they would want me to stay away from them so they couldn’t hurt me.
That’s how I would feel, at least.
Anyway, I was in a hurry, so I was overwhelmed by the urge to snatch Sylvia up and stuff her into her new cage, but I managed to rein it in enough to finish processing her. I also remembered to press my fingers against the bars of her carrier so she could start getting used to my smell.
Her little nose pressed against my fingers to let me know she approved of my existence. I caught a glimpse of her fur through the bars. She was a tortoiseshell. They were notoriously picky, so her gesture was a true honor.
It made me do my best not to hurry through her paperwork. I didn’t want to miss anything important. If I found out later that I’d missed something big like a trauma trigger, I’d be unable to forgive myself.
The delivery lady wasn’t helping speed up the process at all. She kept finding parts of me and my clothes that had small imperfections, and they all required her attention.
After the fifth spot of invisible lint she’d found on my chest, I finally managed to get all the Is dotted and the Ts crossed on Sylvia’s paperwork. Then I walked the delivery lady to the front door, hoping she’d get the hint that she was supposed to go through it.
“I was thinking of getting a coffee,” she said and began playing with a fat, poofy curl hanging over one shoulder.
It’s not a good hairstyle for working with animals. Especially cats. If you put something bouncy and springy in front of them like that, they will treat it like a cat toy.
“That’s a good idea,” I said as I opened the door for her. She beamed at me and walked through. “I hope you enjoy it,” I added and closed the door behind her.
“I will never get tired of watching that,” Melanie said with a chuckle.
“Watching what?” I took Sylvia and her carrier off the counter and carried her to the back room where the cats and small animals were. Melanie trailed behind me.
Normally, I would be consumed with getting a new animal settled in and adjusted to their new surroundings, but not that day. I had places to go and bunnies to see, so I was planning to put Sylvia in her new cage, carrier and all, and opening her door to give her a chance to walk out into her new cage once she felt ready.
After that, it would be up to Melanie to help her through her first night here.
“Watching someone throw themselves at you and have you barely notice they are alive.”
“She was just being friendly. And I always notice when people are alive. If they weren’t, I’d notice that too. A dead body would be very difficult to miss.”
Melanie sighed. “Oh, Paris. You are impossible not to love.”
She says that to me a lot. Apparently, I’m a loveable guy.
I really care about Melanie too. It would be hard not to, because she barely has any shadows around her at all. Those kinds of people tend to be the nicest.
I gave her my best smile and said, “Thank you.”
I carefully placed Sylvia inside her cage—carrier and all—and opened the door to her carrier. Then I reached in slowly so I wouldn’t scare her and unfolded a small bit of her blanket, tugging on it until a part of it was out of the carrier. I thought of it as creating a little runway of safety. Once I finished getting her settled, I closed and covered the cage with a blanket so she would feel nice and cozy.
“Speaking of being loveable, Mike says hi.”
“Mike? Which one is that?”
Melanie snorted. “My roommate? The one who comes here once a week?”
I shrugged.
A lot of people come to the shelter once a week. I call them tourists—people who want a pet but can’t afford one or aren’t allowed to have one. They are usually excellent petters and great company for the animals. It’s a huge help because I only have so many hands.
